One Push
by Lady 'Oak
Summary: He’s a Wanderer, one, that lost everything and gained nothing on his way. He hates, who he is, but still, he continues to follow the Fate and do his job. Language, yaoi, and dark.


Author's Note:  
Nothing explict.  
I toyed once with the idea of the character, who has to ensure the course of history in various worlds. This short was inspired by my notes upon this subject, and, if I decide to continue this, it would turn into kind of 'retribution fic'.   
By the way, it shouldn't be hard to figure out this one.  
Oh, and I own nothing except the story, so don't sue me. I'm having only harmless fun.  
  
  
  
One Push  
By Lady 'Oaks  
  
  
I've seen this so many times, again and again, in the countless number of universes. Love between them blossomed like a wild roses, rich and plentiful, still, it was not enough. It never was. Love, such as this, exists only to be broken.  
  
World is a bitch, isn't it? And Destiny, she's the Miss Bitch, if I have something to say.  
  
I watched as they entered the town, name's not important, it differs every time. Although he didn't show it, I've seen how much he cares for that boy in his every movement and every look. And I was envious. Once, it was me, who held the boy in arms, wiping away the tears after he had a nightmare.  
  
He still dreams them, but never utters a word nor stirs in the night. Later, when he will be a man, he won't be able to close his eyes without the unbearable visions plaguing his mind. It will be the effect of my actions. I feel guilty already, but that's what I have to do.   
  
I've felt guilty for my whole existence. I still do. I always bring only the pain, sometimes to those I loved. Again and again. I hate myself. But it's in my contract. When it's finished, far into eternity, maybe I will find a moment of happiness like in the beginning.  
  
The boy. Sometimes he's not a boy. His age changes too. Nonetheless, it's always him. My love. But this time, the similarities are uncanny. He's lithe and short, his limbs are slim and graceful, his face is like white porcelain, where the great pools of incredibly blue eyes were placed. His hair, golden in the summer sun, are wild as they had been then.   
  
It hurts, oh Gods!, it hurts so much! I never imagined something could hurt so much after the fateful moment I've awoken to the nightmare of death and her proposition. He's the very image of one I love, no matter, if he hates my guts.   
  
Wrong tense. Wrong world. That one, he doesn't know me. Truly, he never will, except those fleeting moments, when he will see my apparition, guiding him from one point to another.   
  
I don't bother listening to their conversations and I force myself not to look at them. It hurts. Oh, fucking Christ! Tears flow down my face. Why did I ever agreed? They look so happy together that I actually believe they could survive through this, they could change the Fate, but she wouldn't have anything like that, oh no. If not I, someone other, desperate as I was, would do this.   
  
I am desperate, still. But I lost my hope already. I started to realize it all was a cruel joke, made only to punish me for atrocities I have committed. My own, private hell, where I am forced to hurt time after time the one I love, or watch someone else do the job. What could be worse?  
  
I wait for the right moment. So little is needed to push a man over the brink of insanity.  
  
He's in the library, searching through any book he can lay his hands on, but this one, a simple diary bound in black leather, he overlooked. It was easy.  
  
I step down the stairs and I know he sees me, taken aback. I'm a vision. Damn fucking revelation. I go to the bookcase and take the book, placing it on the desk, just next to his hands. I met his eyes, mirror image of mine own, green and bewildered. I smile sadly and disappear from his senses.  
  
He will read it, the diary of the real monster, and he will burn the town. Legends were not enough, he knows the writing of this hand. He knows the writing of his father, however, he doesn't realize this sick bastard is actually his biological father too.   
  
I will watch now, and I will help in the odd way, to save the world from the danger, from the Meteor.   
  
Because, no matter how much I hate my existence, it's not a reason enough to condemn the living to death and slavery.   
  
  
Author's Note 2:  
If you liked it, I could write the continuation. But, seriously, drop me a line 'bout what do you think of it. 


End file.
